Jack O'Lantern Smile
by ThePlayerProphet
Summary: Terezi grins with her sharky fangs, sharp zig-zag incisors that one might carve into a pumpkin for Halloween. Her blood red glasses might as well be her eyes, which are equally as red and sharp. Dave & Terezi. Shippy if you want I guess.


Terezi grins with her sharky fangs, sharp zig-zag incisors that one might carve into a pumpkin for Halloween. Her blood red glasses might as well be her eyes, which are equally as red and sharp. She titters intermittently at some thought or another that she usually turns with excitement to reveal to him. "Daaaave," her voice is bizarre. Words rasp naturally from the back of her throat like she's delivering a prank call and doesn't want her tones to be recognized. She sounds like she's been gargling saltwater with rocks, and he can feel her in his shuddering diapragm. Her voice slithers out between her teeth, emerging in waves and coiled like question marks. He thinks she could be out of a horror movie or some shit. The crazy bitch who sits up in some giant government building or whatever. Plotting to kill his wife and kids because she's into his cool fucking self. Something like one of those stupid movies John would watch.

"Hehehehe," she hisses, giggles crackling out of her as she shivvers with laughter at something or other. The sound makes Dave expect her to start coughing, but it's just her regular voice. It doesn't stop him from waiting for the big reveal where she turns out to have been a human all along or something. He knows it's bullshit but the feeling doesn't go away. Terezi is thin and angular, and her mouth stretches across her face in a grin like a fucking cartoon character. Her elbows, shoulders and chin are pointy like she's skinny but maybe that's troll anatomy or whatever. He stands with his hands in his pockets on the other side of the kitchen from where she licks his countertop, leaning over it like a dog sniffing for scraps. "So many tastes," she hisses. She occasionally picks up whatever is on the counter - puppets or appliances or empty chip bags - and gives them a squeeze or a deep sniff or an immodest lick.

Sure he knew she was an alien. But then she showed up at his front door with her ash-cold skin, bright orange horns and twirling her blind-kid's cane like she was pimp of the place and he couldn't figure out who she was. Even as she follows the counter around the room toward him with her tongue lolling out, something he figured she would do, it's still strange that this creature in front of him is the same one he talked to during the game. When all that connected them was text and thought. And now they're there with shapes and bodies and he's not sure what things are like. Not that he's thinking about it. He's just standing there with his hands in his pockets like a cool guy who doesn't give a shit about anything, mouth drawn in an unconcerned line and eyes shielded with shades so even what he looks at is a mystery. But with Terezi the way she is he's not sure what he's able to hide from her. Maybe she can smell his thoughts or some shit. These aliens are crazy.

Terezi's lap around the counter leads her back to Dave and she reaches out for him with long, grey fingers with sharp nails. She positions herself in front of him and he gazes down at her as she coils up toward him. She makes a show of patting her hands over his arms and his chest, following his hands into his pockets to dig for their contents and sticking a piece of lint in her mouth, which she immediately picks out and flicks onto the floor. He knows she doesn't need to do all the touching. He watched her waltz in to his apartment swinging her cane around the air like she was maybe hoping to hit him with it as she nimbly stepped around all of Bro's cool stuff. She reaches up and traces his collar bone before she wraps her hands around his neck, pressing her thumb against his adam's apple and cupping his chin. Her hands are cool as she pats at his face, bumping his shades off-kilter. Dave spares one of his pocketed hands to straighten them as she presses her fingers against his eyes. She pushes with determination but is also careful not to hurt him. She intrudes greedily into his personal space, memorizing his smell and his shape and making him hers. Her fingers slip under his shades and over his forehead, reaching for his hair which she squeezes together in clumps. She keeps her palms over his eyes so he holds his shades away from his face with a concilitory sigh.

"Is this what a cool guy looks like, Dave?" Her voice coils around the words, coming out of her throat like a knife squeezing through rocks. She twirls her fingers through his hair.

"Just one," Dave responds, his voice monotone and more breath than sound.


End file.
